Free LordoftheKeep by Ann Lawrence Page B

eyes searched
frantically for Angelique as she clawed at the man’s questing hands.
    Angelique set off a wailing so pathetic and loud as to wake
the dead. Her cries echoed off the dank stone walls. The man bit back his ardor
long enough to try to silence Angelique with a raised boot. Emma took advantage
of the lessening of his grip and brought her knee up between his thighs. He
roared in pain, stared at her in disbelief. Emma swept Angelique into her arms
and fled. What had she done? This was not Ivo, a village dolt, this was a
knight, a duke’s man.
    Gasping with fright and her rapid pace, Emma burst from the
stair, careening into the broad form of William Belfour. He snapped a sharp
rebuke at her before he saw clearly who had run into his back. Recognizing
Emma, he grabbed her arm and drew her aside.
    “ Jesu , you are a mess.” His hand was huge and his
grip strong.
    Emma placed a hand to her head. Her headcovering was gone.
One of her braids had begun to unravel. She decided to try to enlist his help,
although it pained her to do so. “A knight…a brute…he hurt Angelique,” she
gasped, stroking a hand over a red welt on Angelique’s cheek. “He put his hands
on me.”
    William pulled Emma against a wall and out of view from the
company of people lingering after the meal. “Silence the child,” he growled.
Without thought, Emma did as he directed. She wrapped Angelique tightly in her
arms and rocked her and murmured endearments.
    Angelique’s sobs subsided, her thumb journeyed to her mouth.
She settled.
    William raked a hand through his blond hair, then touched
the braid that lay across her breast. “Did you invite his advances?”
    “Nay! He accosted me! He hurt Angelique.”
    “It didn’t take you long to start lifting your skirts.”
    Emma’s gasp of disbelief turned to a choked back sob. How
dare he insult her so? He who’d had her virginity, he the father of her child.
“I did naught to tempt him!” she cried.
    “Just as you did naught to tempt me?” He reached out, but
she jerked back from his hand. “A whore’s a whore. The men know you have no
protection. They see the babe in your arms, know you have been well bedded.
They want a taste. They will take what is offered.”
    “I offer nothing!” She batted away his hand again.
    “Really? You twitch your hips as you go by, you smile
sweetly to anyone who greets you. What are the men to think? Complain not of
your lot. The men see a new whore—”
    “Wife! I am—”
    “Whore and they all wish to taste her, and many suspect that
taste will be sweet.” He spoke over her as if her words were mist on the air.
“Your status as a free woman will not hold them off for long.” William lifted a
loose lock of Emma’s hair. She snatched it away.
    “Where are you off to? Mayhap we could take this opportunity
to taste of passion’s sweet kiss once more?” William threw back his head and
roared with laughter when tears ran down Emma’s cheeks. “Weeping? Spare me. You
think yourself better than the others who sport a bastard? Think again. You
carry your shame in your arms.” William chucked Angelique under the chin and
turned away, still laughing.
    Emma fled into the night. She stumbled on the slick stones
and slowed her pace. Clouds blanketed the sky, and all about her was silent and
midnight-black. Head down, eyes on her feet, she hastened to the weaving shed
where a dark form appeared suddenly before her. She stifled a scream and
clutched her daughter. The apparition became a large man—the last man she
wished to see at that moment.
    “Mistress Emma.” Lord Gilles stood before her. His hair and
black mantle made him one with the night.
    Emma quickly forced her features under control. She could
not let him see her anguish. She dropped a deep curtsey. “Lord Gilles. Forgive
me. I did not see you.”
    Gilles realized he had almost touched the weaver. He glanced
about, but only the sentries on the wall stirred. The wind whipped Emma’s